


Lost War: Burning

by CrazyJanaCat



Series: Lost War [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 18:51:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8221277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyJanaCat/pseuds/CrazyJanaCat
Summary: Life as a slave at the Dark Lord’s Court wasn’t always bad. Romilda found it quite enjoyable, even. She had seen her Lord’s Pet being born… just as she had seen Harry Potter’s death.





	

The side-building that was reserved for the Court slaves was often referred to as the House of Sin for a reason. The most beautiful young men and women of the lower classes called it their home. Their perfectly formed bodies dressed in such tight fitting and revealing outfits they could just as well be naked and the scent of sex hung heavy in the air.

In the back, some of the men were wrestling each other to elevate the boredom, their naked bodies slicked up with oil to the point that they were glistening. It was the closest they were allowed to sex if it wasn’t with one of their Master’s Inner Circle. They weren’t allowed to pleasure each other or themselves, which was very irritating, since their food usually consisted Lust Potion.

Romilda Vane had been there the longest, something she took great pride in, and thanks to her many years of experience, she wasn’t as affected by the constant burning _need_ that heated her blood and always kept her at the ready if anyone took an interest in her. She took another long drag of her bong and exhaled purplish pink smoke. She couldn’t quite remember exactly what the drug was in the liquid inside, but it didn’t particularly matter anyway. It made her feel lightheaded and gave her a pleasant buzz, that was the important part.

Hooded eyes observed the others in the courtyard they spend most of their time. A few young girls were feeding each other grapes, some others were bathing in the large outer bath. Several of the other slaves were either smoking bongs like the one next to Romilda, or drinking expensive wine. Silver and golden bands glinted around each and every one of their neck, like it did with Romilda herself. Gold for her of course. She was the senior slave. The ‘caretaker’ of all the others. The one most respected. Hell, sometimes, she was even treated as an equal by her guests. They talked to her like they didn’t with the others, told her their deepest secrets. The secrets of the Dark Lord himself if she gave them enough to drink beforehand.

Life as a slave at the Dark Lord’s Court wasn’t always bad. Romilda found it quite enjoyable, even. She had seen her Lord’s Pet being born… just as she had seen Harry Potter’s death. She smiled bitterly and took another drag of the bong, the sickly sweet smoke burning her lungs pleasantly.

She still remembered it all vividly, no matter how long it had been since then. She had been 22 years old. That was 14 years ago now… It felt like a lot less. It was as if the last decade had been a dream. She had been too drugged up on potions, alcohol, drugs and _sex_ to remember most of that, but everything before was still all too clear to her.

Only 22 when she and her parents had been captured by Death Eaters. Her father was found guilty for consorting with muggles, and her mother was found guilty… of being a muggle… Both had been executed instantly and Romilda had no illusions that she would have the same fate… only she didn’t.

She was imprisoned in a dungeon, to her surprise sharing a cell with none other than her old Housemate, Lavender Brown. A half-blood, like herself. It was quiet obvious on the swollen, red eyes and the shaking frame of the older girl that Lavender’s parent’s had suffered the same fate as hers. Both girls had comforted each other that at least they were still alive.

They had stayed locked away in that dingy cell for about a week, maybe a few days more or less, they didn’t know, before they had been brought before the Dark Lord and his loyal followers. Both girls had been given the shock of their lives when they found Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Died, their destined saviour who had been declared dead years ago, naked and tied up, kneeling at the Dark Lord’s feet. He hadn’t looked a day over 16. He was thin and his creamy skin was littered in scars, but other than that, he had looked healthy.

Both Harry and Romilda had been forced to watch as Voldemort had Lavender tortured until her thrashings and screams died down. Until her brown eyes turned glassy and unseeing, no longer from pain, but from nothingness.

Romilda had cried and screamed, begged and cursed, but Harry had done nothing but sob. Through her tears, she had seen his lips move, like he was repeating a mantra, but no words came from them. It had taken her a while, but she eventually was able to read his trembling lips. It had been a constant repeat of the word please, over and over again. He had cried even harder than Romilda over his old classmate’s death.

Then Voldemort left. He didn’t even acknowledge Romilda and left Harry exactly where he had been kneeling. At first, Romilda had been confused, but as soon as the large double doors had fallen closed, the gathered Death Eaters had crowded around her, leering and taunting her. There had been 15 of them. Romilda had no problem recounting them all with perfect clarity. It was hard to forget when every single one of them had forced themselves on her several times until she eventually passed out.

When she had woken up, she was back in the dungeon cell. All alone this time, and naked, since they had ripped her clothes to shreds to quicker get to her body. The memory of the brutal gang rape had send her into hysteric sobbing. She had bitterly recounted how none of them had touched Harry, how he hadn’t even spoken up in her defence, but she soon realized the reason for this.

He hadn’t once said a word as long as she had been in his presence, but he had tried, with Lavender. And when she had been-… he had screamed himself hoarse, sobbed and cried, and gurgled in a way that had sounded as if he had desperately tried to form words. The reason why he hadn’t was so incredibly simple: Voldemort had made sure he couldn’t.

Romilda had always prided herself in being one of the smartest witches of her year. Sure, she wasn’t a Hermione Granger, but she had done really well and had given many Ravenclaws a run for their money. In fact, before she had been arrested, she had been studying to become a Healer.

Over the following weeks, she had been visited by Death Eaters pretty often, to ‘play’ some more. In her loneliness, she wondered how Harry was doing, and if they did this to him too, or if Voldemort kept him all for himself. She was sure that Harry too was being used sexually. The wetness that had clung to his thighs when she’d seen him wasn’t his own after all.

All thoughts of her once-hero were wiped from her mind when she was collared with a golden collar and finally taken to a new place. The House of Sin. They were all brought in at the same time. 7 of them. Four women and three men. Handsome and young, and all of muggle background. It wasn’t hard to figure out what would happen to them. Romilda had looked on with detached curiosity as they all struggled and fought and cried until the Death Eaters grew tired of it. Romilda never figured out who’s idea it was, or if it had been Voldemort to give the order, but that was the moment that they found themselves dozed up on constant Lust Potions and mind-numbing drugs.

The slaves came and went for years to pass, and only Romilda stayed permanently. Within the year, she was already considered the unofficial ‘Head Slave’. The main Concubine, even though their actual Master never once partook in her services. He was usually only interested in the new and young ones. Romilda was too old, too experienced to take his fancy, but she never felt upset about that. On the contrary, it was likely the reason she was still alive.

After about 10 years in the House of Sin, she met him again, or maybe she met him for the first time instead…

Voldemort visited them, like he did often when he had acquired a new slave. He liked to watch as his Death Eaters took him or her for the first time, ripped their virginity from them with violence. They always cried and begged for it to stop, as they hadn’t been allowed any potions or drugs beforehand. It never failed to rile their Master up, and he usually took a slave back with him to his rooms after.

The big surprise was when he brought someone along with him. Romilda first thought it was Harry, still looking as youthful as he had been the last time she’d seen him, and it was only when she saw his eyes and the way he only saw Voldemort did she realize that there was nothing left of the boy who had once been known as Harry Potter. Voldemort introduced him as ‘Pet’, and Romilda saw the truth in that name. Harry Potter was no more. Only Pet had remained.

He always was by Voldemort’s side ever since that day, always following him around, and Voldemort took great pleasure in showing him off to his servants and followers. Pet seemed to love it too.

It happened not even a month after Romilda had first seen Pet. She’d been present, along with the newest slave girl. She was only 16, her silver collar shining bright and new around her thin neck as she smiled coyly at her new master. She was very beautiful and seductive, trained well at the new school for slaves. Voldemort had been enthralled, but Pet had been less than pleased.

Romilda had never been so scared in her whole life as when Pet’s bright green eyes lit up like the killing curse and the girl was struck dead instantly. She crumbled up at Voldemort’s feet, who seemed just as shocked as Romilda herself. Only a second later, he had to jump aside as Pet’s hateful glare set fire to the corpse and burned it until nothing but ashes remained.

Voldemort had been furious after he had gotten over the shock. He’d grabbed Pet and dragged him out, screaming at him. It took three weeks before Romilda saw Pet again, but when she did, she looked at him with new eyes. Pet was not someone she wished to cross.

With the way everyone else still treated him like a lowly object, she knew her Master had decided to keep Pet’s strange abilities a secret. Romilda didn’t need any prompting to keep her mouth shut either. She would never do anything to anger either her Master or his Pet. She valued her own life too much for that.

After that, more slaves started to disappear. Yes, many of them were gifted to the Lord’s favoured followers as rewards, or accidentally killed in the throes of passion by the more sadistic of them, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that this was different. They all knew that every slave that disappeared did so after being called to their Lord’s bed and this caused many rumours to spread. Only Romilda knew it was Pet, who got jealous every time Master played with someone else. She would never tell though. Let the others speculate, none but she knew of Pet’s secret.

Romilda was thrown from her musings of the past when the doors flew open with a loud bang and Pet barged in, dragging someone behind him. Romilda’s eyes widened as she recognized Hermione Granger. Strangely, there was no collar, and her clothes were expensive and business-like looking. So the Gryffindor bookworm had been spared the fate of so many muggleborns and half-bloods…

“Come to play with us, Pet?” Romilda called out.  
“Or have you brought us a new toy instead?”

Granger scowled, but soon recognition crossed her features and she stared at Romilda in shock. The Matron Slave smirked lazily and took another drag of the pink smoke. It was getting empty, so she would soon have to refill, or have a House Elf do so at least. Court slaves weren’t expected to do anything but lay around and wait for the next fuck.

“V-Vane?” Granger asked shocked.

Romilda blew the smoke out with a chuckle.

“You look as if you were lucky,” she noted, looking at Granger with a smirk.  
“Has that luck run out, or does Master’s Pet have a different reason to bring you here?”

It wasn’t the first time Pet had barged in on his own. He usually came here when he was too bored. Romilda knew he had his own chambers in the main palace near their Lord, but whenever Pet was alone, he came here, searching for company. He especially liked cuddling up to Romilda, which had likely more to do with the fact that Romilda would never be chosen to warm their Master’s bed than any remembrance of a life before. She doubted Harry Potter had ever known she existed anyway.

She looked up when Pet started chuckling. He grinned widely at Romilda and pressed a finger against his lips, winking. Romilda frowned, a feeling of dread washing over her at the gesture.

A large lion made of fire suddenly roared to life, seemingly jumping out of Pet, and Romilda got to her feet. She watched in horror as the fiery beast trampled the courtyard, swallowing many of the now screaming and panicking slaves and setting fire to the flowers and trees.

“Harry!” Granger shouted in horror.  
“What are you doing?! Stop that!”

The brunette woman darted forward and grabbed Pet’s arm, only to jump back as she burned herself. It took a second before Romilda realized what she was seeing. Granger couldn’t see, or refused to at least, that Harry no longer existed in that body. She still believed in a boy that no longer lived.

She couldn’t stop herself from laughing at that realization. Granger tensed and stared at Romilda in shock and horror. It must have been quite the sight, Romilda Vane, surrounded by fire, laughing madly, even as she was slowly killed by the intense heat, but she didn’t care. For the very first time, she had been smarter than Hermione Granger. She had beaten the smartest witch of their age.

Romilda smiled softly at the confirmation that she had been right about Harry. She had witnessed one of his last moments, just as she had witnessed one of Pet’s very first. She had been there. She had seen the birth of a being that would one day either end the world, or reform it in his Master’s image.

With a sigh, Romilda closed her eyes in silent acceptance. She was no longer afraid of Death as finally, the hungry, licking flames claimed her as their own. The world had nothing new to offer her anyway. She had seen enough to know how this would all end…

In Flames.

 


End file.
